Stone Cannot Change
by Christy Anderson
Summary: The story takes place during Squire. Squire Joren of Stonemountain is to take his turn in the Chamber of the Ordeal


Author: Christy Anderson

Date: July 7, 2001

Disclaimer: Tamora Pierce wrote Protector of the Small, I am merely expanding it. I own nothing but the plot. No infringement is intended to anyone.

Author's note: I had the idea for this story when I was discussing with my friend about the 'likeableness' of Joren, and after I had read Squire. Thanks Mandi for all the ideas you gave me. :)

**Stone Cannot Change**

The soft sound of water splashing filled the deadly silent air. Washcloth in hand, Joren of Stonemountain began to scrub the back of his neck. The room where the bath was held, although heated, left the water cold to the touch. Before him stood Sir Paxen of Nond, his knightmaster, and Sir Gareth the Younger of Naxen, their faces grim and tight. With an inward smirk, Joren wondered how his knightmaster had managed to get such an esteemed man to give him the instruction in the codes of chivalry. No one did favors for Squire Joren anymore, not since the trial.

Sir Gareth the Younger began his pacing. Washing his arms, Joren peered at him through hard blue eyes that flashed dislike. Like the king, Gareth was a progressive; he approved of of bitches becoming knights. With this thought, a mental image of Kel shot through Joren's mind, her face tantalizing him with every second.

"Joren of Stonemountain, are you prepared to be instructed?" Sir Gareth asked icily.

Joren looked up at the man, the image of Kel fading quickly from his mind. "I am," Joren sneered bitterly. He would not have Kel torment him, not in his hour of glory and triumph. He was to become a knight. In one quick motion, Joren washed his face and stepped out of the bath, beginning to dress.

From the shadows, Sir Paxen came forward, a warning look on his face. "If you survive the Ordeal of Knighthood, you will be a Knight of the Realm."

With Paxen's words, a scene from the previous day flashed back in his mind

_Joren stood in the back of the courtroom. Vinson, bruised and beaten, looked at him guiltily, being carried away by the guards. As Kel had come to leave, he sprang. "Are you happy," he snapped. "You got one of us somehow, you progressives. You can't even fight your own battles-"_

Paxen's voice rang clear once again. "You will be sworn to protect those weaker than you, to obey your overlord, to live in a way that honors your kingdom and your gods."

_Joren was back to looking at Kel, her face as blank as ever. "Once I'm a knight," Joren threatened at her, "you'd best keep an eye behind you, bitch. I'll be in your shadow, until one day you won't cast one ever again."_

_Kel's eyes glared as her brown hair came around her face, but she was silent, deadly silent._

Joren finished putting his undyed cotton breeches on, the image fading from his mind. Sir Gareth came around from the back, placing a heavy arm on his shoulder. "To wear the shield of a knight is an important thing," he said, emphasizing each word carefully. "You may not ignore a cry for help."

Joren jumped backed. Was that Kel he had just heard? Her strong voice continued. "It means that rich and poor, young and old, **_male_ **and **_female_**__ may look to you for rescue, and you cannot deny them."

Joren looked from face to face; both Paxen and Gareth had not seemed to notice anything out of the usual. With an inward sigh of relief he calmed down- it was only his imagination. But her voice continued.

_Kel stood in front of him, her Yamani cool lifted as a knowing smile formed over her face and her eyes stared through him. "It means that rich and poor, young and old, **male **and **female** may look to you for rescue and you cannot deny them." As she finished she met his gaze. "Will you do that Joren?" she asked simply._

Joren shook his head as the two knights continued. What did they know? Sir Gareth of Naxen was a desk knight after all. What did Kel know? As a knight, it was his duty to protect Tortall and that meant killing all bitches that thought they were worthy enough to become a knight. He would never give it up.

At last Sir Paxen of Nond opened the door to the Chapel, and a cold breeze rushed through. "Remember Joren, you must make no sound between now and the time you leave the Chamber of the Ordeal." With cold eyes Paxen swept down to whisper in Joren's ear. "You've been given a second chance boy- you're lucky to see this day. Mithros bless."

At that moment, Sir Gareth tilted his head towards the door and Joren walked through it. Sir Gareth would stay with him this night; it was almost royal observation. With anger, Joren strutted through the open door into the cold room and like stone seated himself on the bench in front of the iron door to the Chamber of the Ordeal.

For a while he could scarcely think about anything else but being cold. It reminded him of all of those days Wyldon had traipsed them about through the snow. Kel had hated that too Kel he said her name over and over again to himself, each time with more rage. How dare she-

_Kel stood in the stables, brushing Peachblossom. From the shadows Joren watched her every movement. Kel wasn't graceful and Kel wasn't beautiful. Yet there was always something about her that taunted his thoughts and his mind. He couldn't get over her sense of honor and responsibility and her sense of humor. She had an admirable work ethic and she excelled at all she did. She was Kel._

_Shaking his head, he replaced his thoughts of nonsense romance with thoughts of anger and had forced a smile. "Kel," he called out._

_Kel spun around and doubled her fists. "Joren," she returned icily._

Joren remembered that scene. He had begged for Kel's friendship. It was a rouse, to fool her into trusting him enough so that he could trick her. But had it been at that moment just a rouse, an inner voice accused. Don't you really love her?

"Rich and poor, old and young, male and female and you cannot deny them," Kel's voice sounded in his head, repeating it over and over again. Joren tried to clear his mind, but no matter how hard he tried he was caught in her spell. "Rich and poor, old and young, male and female and you cannot deny them can you promise that, Joren? Can you promise me your friendship? Can I trust you?" Joren shook his head in attempt to 'shake' her from his mind. He could picture her, standing there in front of him, accusing him, with a glaive of justice in her hand, the glaive by which she protected those who could not defend themselves.

The persecution went on for hours, until she finally said, "Don't enter the Chamber of the Ordeal if you can't promise these things. You'll perish, Joren, you will perish." And Kel was gone.

Joren tossed back and forth with his conscience scarcely noticing when the priests came up and opened the iron doors. With a foreboding sensation of dread and intrepidation, he stood and crept forward into the doors. No one could deny him his right to become a knight of Tortall. He had been chosen by the gods to deliver his country in its time of need from the hands of the infidel females. As the doors clashed shut behind him, he found himself in pitch-blackness.

_A dismal scene formed around him. He was seated on his black horse, suited in chain mail and armor. With his sword in his hand, he led the soldiers behind him through the streets filled with ankle-deep mud. Joren could feel the rain soaking him all over and he shivered as his horse plunged forward._

_The smell of death filled his nostrils, all around him buildings that lined the street were burning. People lay face down in the mud dead- men, women, and children. Before them was the enemy, their faces undeterminable. Who were they? Joren halted the men as he made a startling discovery._

_They were the enemy; he was the enemy. Joren took a double take as he watched himself go through the town on his horse burning the buildings around him. A man rushed out from an inn. "Please, Sir Joren of Stonemountain, this is my only home-" the words of the man were cut off as Joren speared him through the stomach and gave his men the word to torch the inn, with the family inside._

_In front of him was a small girl, who bent down to pick up her doll that she had dropped while running for safety. As Joren rode up, he chopped the child in half. Joren, still watching the scene before him, froze as his double rode up to face him. "Do you recognize it?" his double asked him amusedly._

_Joren watched his double point to the castle in the background. "Stonemountain," the double answered without waiting for a reply. He pointed to the old man, now sinking into the mud in a pool of his own blood. "Master Tennyson you remember him don't you Joren?" Joren raised up his sword to fight, but his men had already mutinied and switched alliances to the other army. "He taught you everything you knew about battle. He treated you like a son, you remember. A** progressive**," the knight continued. "And her, your young sister, who told you last Midwinter that she wanted to become a knight. You struck her, remember Joren? You struck her so hard that she almost **died**."_

_The Joren double drew his sword almost instinctively. From the shadows came his father, Lord Burchard of Stonemountain. "Don't listen to him Joren. All females who wish to be knights must die. They are ruining the kingdom with their evil wiles and their immoral desires." With one thrust, the sword went through the heart of his father, who fell to the ground, his blood spilling around him._

_Joren turned his face from the scene, unwanted fear filling his body. The sight of his father and Stonemountain was almost more than he could bear. This was his boyhood home, his friends his family- he could never kill them. Joren shook his head in disbelief, looking hard at the knight. The Chamber of the Ordeal would have to do better than this._

_"This is it, Joren, this is your future. This is what you become- a heartless and ruthless knight. Isn't this what you're afraid of? As a knight, you will go crazy and you'll attack your fief and kill all whom you know because you will believe that they have all turned against you. You deserve to die now." And with that the knight brought his sword above his head, ready for the fatal blow._

_The knight's face became Kel's and the burning fief of Stonemountain faded away. Joren looked at his arms as they wrinkled and aged. Joren could feel his breath shortening, and his hair whitened before his eyes. Kel looked at him through condemning eyes, the area around her black. "You have been condemned to death, Joren of Stonemountain how do you plead?"_

_"Guilty," a raging mob behind him answered. They held torches and clubs. In the back were centaurs, hundreds of them lined up, all waiting for something._

_Kel looked down at him, her Yamani face strong. "How do you plead?" The sword in her hands became a glaive. "Defend yourself," she screamed._

_Joren struggled to stand. On his feet he could barely pick up his sword._

_"This is how you die, Stonemountain, a wrinkled, old, friendless young man. You neither dealt mercy nor condemned injustice." Kel pointed back at the mob and said, "You have lost Joren. You are a failure. Isn't this what you are afraid of? They have condemned you for who you are. How do you plead?"_

_Joren, in rage swung his sword swiftly and dealt Kel a powerful blow to her shoulder. The gash began to bleed. "Is that the best you can do? Isn't this what you are afraid of?" Kel challenged._

_A few years melted off of Joren's face and his strength was periodically returned. Bitch, Joren thought. You will die, Joren of Stonemountain, a voice screamed inside his head. Kel brought her glaive down below his ankle and flipped him down. As he hit the ground he became a bit younger, and found more strength to stand. Bitch, he thought again._

_You will die, Joren of Stonemountain, the voice continued to yell. Kel flipped him again, and he fell, becoming a bit younger. Again and again, every time he hit the ground, he became younger. Still the voice screamed. In ire, he violently counterattacked against Kel, their weapons becoming fists and feet, but Joren was losing. Bitch, he yelled at her in his mind. Bitch! He would become a knight. He would become a knight._

_Neal, Merric, Owen, Cleon, and Roald materialized behind Kel just as they had been as pages. Aside him stood now Garvey, Vinson, and Zahir, but no one was fighting._

_"I don't have to fight you, Joren," Kel answered. "You have been condemned to die." The mob behind Kel faded away and Joren found himself in the bushes. Sparrows perched on nearby trees. He recognized this place. It was where Wyldon had taken them one summer. Joren remembered sneaking up on Kel and having her flip her into the bushes. The scene before him now became so real that the sharp ends of the twigs began to pierce his skin._

_"You will be punished for your misdeeds."_

_Joren recognized Vinson's voice. "Your prejudice, your bigotry, your hatred, your deceit You will suffer." With these words, Vinson tugged Joren out of the bushes and shoved him to his knees._

_Joren began to sweat. There were only a few more hours, a few more hours and he would be a knight. This was all an illusion; Kel was only an illusion. This would end. With his words of confidence, Joren touched the welt on his cheek where Kel had struck him moments before._

_A hand gently touched his cheek. Joren looked up pleadingly, afraid it was her. Kel knelt down before him and picked up his chin. Her face was soft but firm. It gave great justice to her strength and determination. For a moment Joren longer for that compassion, but immediately suppressed that desire. He would not be caught in her trap. Kel was a woman. "You have led a hard life, Joren of Stonemountain," she said compassionately. "But you have persecuted others by the sword and now it is time to perish by that same sword. It is too late, just like stone you cannot change."_

_Her glaive was before him, a glaive of justice. "Rich and poor," Vinson began._

_"Old and young," Roald continued._

_"Male and female," Kel said slowly, "may look to you for rescue and you cannot deny them. Can you do this?"_

_"Can you do this?" repeated Garvey._

_"Will you do this?" Kel questioned again._

_"Can we trust you?" asked Zahir._

_"You cannot change, Joren," Neal accused. "Just like stone- it cannot change."_

_"You will persecute those who you believe are weak," Owen stated clearly._

_"The young," Merric chimed in._

_"The small," Cleon added._

_"The sickly," Roald listed._

_"Innocents," Vinson said hauntingly._

_"Women" Kel ended. "Can you really promise us your friendship? Can we trust you?"_

_"You are a cynical bigot, Joren," Vinson blamed. "It is your undoing. The Chamber of the Ordeal gave me a chance, but it is too late for you. Is this not what you are afraid of?"_

_Kel stood up and moved back. "The gods cannot allow you to become a knight."_

_Joren's heart was pounding in his throat. His limbs were frozen to his sides, immovable. Kel's sweet face stared at him in sorrow. "You have lived by the sword, and you must die by the sword," she continued. "You are defeated. After all, isn't this what you are afraid of?"_

_She leveled the glaive at his heart. She released it and it floated in the air. "I'm sorry Joren." The words floated from her lips._

_Beg, plead, tell her that you love her, his inner voice commanded. You can change, the voice reasoned. Beg for a second chance._

_"Just like stone you cannot change."_

_Joren squared his soldiers the anger welling up inside of him. He was a man, superior to her. Women had no rights. They shouldn't be allowed to become knights. They were devious, deceitful, immoral. They would bring Tortall to ruins. They had even affected the Chamber of the Ordeal. It was all their doing. Women were only useful bearing children, and they served no purpose in everyday life. Kel would not prevail he would win he had to win. This was not the hour of defeat- he would not beg for mercy. He was stone, fashioned in the image of his father, in the image of what the kingdom of Tortall had been once. His death would make them all see, see the path of self-destruction they were all on. He cleared his throat, knowing the consequences. He would not give in._

_"Bitch!" Joren screamed with all his might, and the glaive flew fast through his heart and disappeared._

Joren fell to the ground, his handsome eyes closing in death, to see the iron doors begin to open. With he last breath he vowed that Kel would pay with her life.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

Kel stood before the door of the empty room, too surprised to continue down the hall. This had been his room, a place she had often stayed away from. How many weeks had it been now? Scarcely three, Kel thought as she shook her head. Tomorrow she would leave Corus and these sights behind, but the memory of the shock that had happened here would stay for the rest of her life. Joren was dead; he had died in the Chamber of the Ordeal. Had he been too weak to face the challenges, had he spoken a word, had the Chamber killed him? Kel shook her head- she would never know. Wiping away the smallest tear, Kel turned away. "Goodbye Joren," she whispered.

**The End**


End file.
